


Maybe Next Time I'll Drive You

by LoudenSwainfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Fear of Flying, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl/pseuds/LoudenSwainfangirl
Summary: We all know one of Dean's few fears is flying. This flight home might not turn out so bad after meeting a blue eyed man with a knack for distraction.





	Maybe Next Time I'll Drive You

**Author's Note:**

> I have Michi27 to thank for inspiring me to write this little drabble. Everyone deserves a cheerleader like Michi in their court!
> 
> Also, POV is kind of fluid in this one.

The blood blanche's from Dean's knuckles as he tightens his grip on the arm rests of his chair. He can feel the sweat starting to run down his back even though he's shivering cold. The surface of his skin breaks out into pebbly goose bumps causing the hair on his bare arms to stand up.

He turns his head to the right when a deep, rumbling voice penetrates the roaring sound of his heartbeat filling his ears. He feels, rather than hears, himself mutter, "What?"

"I asked if you were okay."

Dean blows out a quick bust of air through pursed lips and opens his eyes, barely managing to mutter, "Fuck." The rolling thunder of fear momentarily ceases as Dean's attention is captured in a shade of blue not fit for any Crayola box.

"Well, _maybe_ if I get your name first."

He repeats, "What?" Widening his field of vision past the kind, blue eyes surrounded by laugh lines, he sees a stunning man with dark hair and a round face that tapers down to a chin with the cutest divot. His brain skips over the detail of the word "cute" describing another man's chin when he lays eyes on his lips. Lips so full and...kissable.

Dean shakes his head and replays their short exchange and snorts, "Ah, shit I'm sorry."

"No worries," the man Dean basically just propositioned, tells him on a deep chuckle. He drops into the vacant seat next to Dean and holds out a hand, "I'm Castiel Novak."

Dean stares at the wide palm and long, slender fingers before grasping it with his own. His grip is firm, and yet his skin is soft.

Reluctant to let go, Dean stammers, "I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

Castiel's smile is soft and he makes no move to release either, "Nice to meet you, Dean, Dean Winchester. Not big on flying?"

Dean feels his face flush and he drops Castiel's hand in order to scrub his face. "Uh no. If by "not big on flying" you mean wanting to vomit, curl up into a ball on the floor and cry, then yes, that's me."

"Hmm, well as long as you don't curl up _over_ the pile of vomit..."

Dean groans and bends at the waist, covering his face in both hands. He feels a warm hand between his shoulder blades and instantly feels a calm wash over him.

His hand makes small circles as he says, "Tell me, Dean, are you going to or away from home this evening?"

He straightens up and faces Castiel. The flush has drained away, leaving a pale wake. "Going home. I was visiting my little brother who attends Stanford."

Castiel's hand slides up from Dean's back onto his shoulders as he sits back into his chair. His light rubbing across his far shoulder pauses and starts to pull away as he looks into Dean's green eyes, "I'm sorry, this's probably weird. My brother is always telling me I have no concept of personal space."

"No!" Dean cries, not wanting him to stop. "Actually, its n-nice. Oddly enough, it's calming me down."

Castiel gives Dean that soft smile again as he resumes his ministrations. "Where in Kansas do you hail from?"

"Lawrence, born and raised. You?"

"I'm from Illinois, originally, but five years ago I moved to Topeka to go into business with my older brother. I have a small bookstore in half of our building and he has a bakery in the other half."

Dean's eyes grow wide and he scoots to the front of his chair, twisting at the waist to face Castiel. "No way! Are you talking about " _Once_ _Upon_ _a_ _la_ _Mode_?!?"

Castiel's face splits into a wide grin. "You know about us?"

"Know about you? Are you kidding? I'm there several times a month. Your brother makes the best, okay maybe second best after mine, strawberry rhubarb pie!"

"I'll make sure to pass the compliment along to Gabriel next time I see him."

Dean seems to deflate a little with his next comment, "Your store is really nice but I have to admit I've only been in there a few times. I've never seen you in there, I know because I would definitely remember." His face flushes a deep crimson color.

"Thank you, Dean, that's nice to hear. Bookstores are a dying breed, I'm afraid," he adds, almost to himself.

"It's not that, I actually really love reading I just don't have a lot of free time. I've been working on getting my own business up on it's feet. I have a little shop where I repair and restore classic cars."

"Yeah? Maybe I'll have to come by. I have an old Lincoln Continental that could use a major overhaul."

"Dude, I said classic cars, not grandpa mobiles."

Castiel laughs again, "You sound like my brother, only he calls it my pimp mobile. I dunno," he says with a shrug of his shoulder and a shy little smile, "there's something about it I really like." He scrunches up his nose and Dean just about loses it over how cute he is. (And there's that damn word again!) "It could probably use a new paint job," he adds as an afterthought.

"I can definitely help you out with that." He lifts his hip and extracts his wallet from his back pocket. "Here," he holds out a business card between two fingers, "call me anytime." He pulls the card away just before Castiel accepts it. "Wait," he rummages around in the bag at his feet and pulls out a pen. Using his thigh he scribbles on the back of the card before holding it out again, "my cell number is on the back. I mean it," he looks Castiel in the eye, "call me anytime." He gives Castiel a wink as he tucks the card into his own wallet.

"I will, Dean. You make sure to stop in the store next time you have a hankering for...pie."

Dean looks around the quiet hanger. "Looks like it's going to be a light flight. Less bodies to recover when we go hurdling into the face of the earth," he groans. "How is it you're so calm?"

Castiel shrugs his shoulder, "Flying has never been an issue for me. It's kind of all out of my hands so I don't stress about it. There're some aspects of flying I actually enjoy."

"Like what? When they lose your bag? The zillions of germs floating in the small enclosure? Or the pissy ass passengers?"

Ignoring the other man's pessimism he answers calmly, "I like people watching and what better place to do it then in an airport?"

"Huh. I've never taken the time to do that, then again I'm typically a wreck."

"I like to let my mind wonder about what their story is. Take this woman, for example." He subtly tips his chin towards a tall brunette wearing a tailored cut business suite, heels clicking as she passes the two men. "She looks sharp, don't you think? Hair perfectly styled, make up all in place. No nonsense way about her."

"Yeah," Dean says slowly, not sure where this is going.

"I look at her and think, I bet the moment she gets home she flings off those heels, throws on ratty old sweat pants, an old T-shirt that once belonged to a boyfriend and plops down onto the couch with a pint of ice cream. While her eight cats climb all over her, she flips aimlessly through bad cable wondering how her life got so shitty."

"Sounds like me sometimes," Dean mutters.

Castiel glances at Dean, eyes a little sad, "Unfortunately, me too. Right down to the old boyfriends shirt minus the cats. Luckily, those moments are few and far between."

"What about this guy?" Dean indicates a shorter man, wearing a rumpled dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He's checking his watch repeatedly and wearing an air of general exhaustion.

"Oh now that guy goes home to a beauty of a wife and enjoys BDSM games where he wears a spiked collar and loves to be spanked with a leather paddle." After Dean's laugher fades away, Castiel asks him, "What do you see for him?"

Dean looks over at the tall slim young man with hunched shoulders, ear buds tucked in, eyes trained on his phone. He thinks for a moment, "I bet on weekends he hits open mic night and blows away the crowd with Eminem's _Lose Yourself_."

Castiel nods his head, "Thats good. I can see that clear as day."

"Speaking of Lose Yourself, how long were you watching me lose my shit?" Dean asks quietly.

The humor fades from Castiel's face, left in its place is a look of sheer concern. "Not long, I noticed you as I turned the corner. I didn't want to intrude but I also couldn't ignore the fact you were clearly in distress."

"Well, thank you. I, uh, really appreciate it."

Castiel opens his mouth to speak but pauses to listen to the overhead speaker. "Oh, they're calling our number."

Dean pulls out his boarding pass, "I'm seat 17B. Where are you?"

"Must be fate, I'm 17A."

"No you're not, you didn't even look at your ticket," Dean grins.

Castiel winks, more like attempts to wink, and responds, "I am now."

As they enter the plane, Castiel can feel the change in Dean's demeanor. They quickly stow their bags under the seats in front of them and Castiel kicks off his shoes. "I find it more relaxing," he explains as Dean watches him before following suit.

Dean's posture starts to take on something similar to how Castiel found him in the hanger- white knuckles, head on the back of the chair his breath shallow.

"Are you seeing anyone? I don't see a ring but I know that doesn't mean anything."

Dean lifts his head, "Who me?" 

"No the flight attendant. Yes you," he answers with a roll of his eyes.

The distraction works and Dean smiles, "Currently, no."

"You make it sound like you have someone lined up."

"Well," he rubs a hand at the back of his neck and looks sideways at Castiel, "there is this guy I'm kind of into. He lives over in Topeka but I don't know if..."

Castiel makes a show of looking around the practically empty airplane, "Well I know a few guys from that city, maybe I know him. I could put in a good word for you. I do have your number, after all."

Dean smiles, making the skin around his eyes crinkle and the green of his irises gleam, "I'd like that." He sucks air in sharply as the no seatbelt light dings on and the flight attendant begins her speech.

Castiel doesn't say a word as Dean's eyes close again, he hesitates then thinks, what the hell, and lays a hand on the nervous man's right thigh. He's about to remove it when Dean's clammy hand clamps down over his and squeezes. He peeks one eye open long enough to convey his gratitude to his new friend.

After the flight attendant hangs up her phone, Castiel pushes up the arm rest separating him and Dean and presses their bodies together, hip to knee. He drapes his left arm casually over Dean's shoulder, allowing him to bring his mouth close to Dean's ear. "Mind if I share a little trick I learned a few years ago? It might help take your mind off your anxiety."

The plane lurches forward as it begins it's taxi into position. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and grips his knees. "Y-yeah, whatever. I'm game."

Castiel's eyes scan up and down Dean's profile before whispering in a low voice, "I want you to listen only to my voice. Forget about whatever's outside that window, forget about the people around us. Focus on my voice and the two of us here, together. Can you feel the heat of our legs?"

Dean nods his head slightly where it lays on the back of his seat.

"Good. Focus on the bottoms of your feet. Can you feel the vibrations humming away? Feel them as they bouce up along the surface of your feet and spread up through your calves, past your knees and through your thighs. Can you feel it?"

Castiel waits for another nod before leaning a little closer. "You know, Dean, I couldn't help my imagination the first time I saw you stand. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your legs are?"

"Nuh-uh. Kids made fun of me. They bow too much," he confesses quietly.

Castiel doesn't know this man and yet he wants to punch everyone who's ever harmed a spiky hair on Dean's head. "Mmm, well let me be the first to say I think they'd look perfect wrapped around...my waist."

Dean twitches at his comment and Castiel's is afraid he may have gone too far. Maybe he read him wrong?

"I'd like that," Dean finally says, opening his eyes to look at Castiel. The plane lurches again and his eyes slam shut. "Shit," he mutters, "what were you saying? I don't care if you recite the alphabet, just keep talking. I like your voice, it's sexy as hell."

"Where was I? Oh yes," he says casually, "imagine those vibrations running up through those thighs and up to your.... Tell me Dean, do you like toys? I bet you do. I'd imagine you have any pick of women and men but on, occasion you like the toys. Especially the kind that vibrate. Can you feel the buzz along your nuts and circling your hole? Hmmm?" He blows softly across Dean's ear. He's close enough to watch the tiny hairs along the top of his ear dance in the breeze. Dean lets out the smallest of whimpers.

Castiel glances out the window to gauge his time. As the plane turns onto the straight part of the tarmac, he sees there's one more plane in front of them.

"I like toys as well but we're still getting to know each other so today I just want it to be you and I. Can you feel my hand, slowly running up your bare thigh? It's sliding over your hip and across to that, thick hard cock of yours. Can you feel me Dean?"

Castiel glances down and sees the hard outline, prominent through his jeans and he knows, Dean indeed "feels him."

"You're such a good boy. Some day I want to wrap my lips around that beautiful fluhed head. I imagine you're thick. I want to taste you, Dean."

Dean's mouth drops open a little as his breathing moves from the shallow panting onto deeper breaths in and out.

"Mmm, feel your slick as I stroke my hand up and down your long shaft. I want to start slow and really feel your velvety skin, the heat on my palm."

"You know what I like, Dean? I really like to feel fingers in my hair. I see you have nice thick fingers, I bet they'd feel really good rubbing on my scalp." His own eyes slip shut briefly and a small gasp escapes his lips. He shifts his body and pulls his left hand up hovering it above Dean's bent head. "Where as I like gentle fingers I bet you like it rough." Castiel grips the longer hair on top of Dean's head and gives him a quick tug. The contact is brief, just enough to feel the crunch of the gel before letting go.

Dean lifts his head off the back of the seat and groans as he leans in closer to Castiel. His eyes still remain closed but his facial muscles have relaxed.

The plane has now taken its position on the runway and the whirling sound starts up, indicating acceleration is about to begin.

Castiel moves his left hand to the base of Dean's neck. His fingers lightly scratch at the short hairs there. "Damn Dean, I don't know if I can control myself around you. Where did you come from? I can't keep my pace slow anymore, I want to stroke you quick and dirty. Listen to the sounds of your slick. Hmm, I want to lick it off."

Castiel struggles to keep his own breathing steady and his voice calm and even toned. "Can you feel my hand stroking up and down, my thumb running over your wet slit?"

The plane begins it's acceleration, pressing them into the backs of their seats. Dean, feel me as I speed up, chasing your release. It's _right there._ "

Dean's breathing has returned to the quick panting but now a moan bubbles up from the back of his throat. The plane has almost reached the end of the runway, "Dean, tell me you can feel the heat pooling low in your belly. Feel my other had roll your balls as they pull up, begging to empty."

The nose of the plane moves upward, pulling the rest of the plane with it. "Oh Dean, you're a beautiful sight to see. Let go, Dean." The back tires lift off, giving the two men sitting alone in row 17, that first feeling of weightlessness. Castiel drops his voice low, and directly in the other man's ears he commands, "Let go for me, Dean."

Dean's right hand grabs onto Castiel's thigh as his eyes pop open. His upper body shoots forward, bending at the waist with a sharp cry. His left hand comes forward and grips the seat in front of him, his head hanging low as he pants through his orgasm.

Castiel's right hand grips his own seat rest as his left continues the gentle scratching and rubbing of Dean's neck. He sits back into his seat and watches Dean's shoulder movements slow down. He pulls his hand back as Dean sits back into his own seat.

His eyes are still closed as he mutters, "Holy shit. Little trick, you say? Wow."

"Everything okay here, gentlemen?"

Castiel looks up into the concerned face of the flight attendant. He smiles at her, "We're fine. My friend here's a little bit of a nervous flyer. I think maybe a drink may help soothe his nerves, whenever the cart's out of course," he adds quickly.

"You'll be my first stop. In the mean time, let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"Thank you," Castiel tells her retreating back.

Deans shoulders start to shake as he laughs. "Well that was pretty fucking awesome." He opens his eyes and turns in his seat to look at Castiel. "How can I repay the favor?"

"I'll take a rain check, I think anything from here on out may draw attention to ourselves."

"Dude, where did you come from? I feel like I should name my first born after you."

Castiel laughs softly and lays a hand on Dean's bicep, "Not necessary, I'm just glad I could help."

"There has got to be something I can do. I've never made it through take off without losing my lunch." He lowers his voice, "I'm not even mentioning the fact you just made me come in my pants, _untouched_. That's definitely never happened before."

Now it's Castiel's turn to blush red, "There's one thing I wouldn't mind," he tells Dean, avoiding eye contact.

Dean leans in close, their foreheads almost touching, "What is it, what can I give you, Castiel?" He looks into his sea of blue then cards his fingers through Castiel's hair.

As Castiel's lids drop closed, Dean leans in and captures his mouth, swallowing down the moan that escapes Castiel's throat as Dean's fingers dig in, massaging gently. He slides his tongue in through the parted lips, melting into the softest lips he's ever encountered.

The seatbelt sign is removed and the muted ding brings them back to reality.

"I should really go clean up," Dean says hoarsely. His fingers run one more time through Castiel's hair then down the side of his jaw. The pad of his thumb fits perfectly through the cleft in his chin. "Don't go anywhere." He smiles, kisses him once on the lips then gets up to head to the bathroom.

When Dean returns, sans the sticky, drying mess in his pants, he finds Castiel reading a book. Two small bottles of Jack Daniels, a plastic cup of ice and a can of coke on his tray.

Castiel gets up to allow Dean access to his seat. "I didn't know what you drank but I figured at this point, you didn't care, it's the end result that matters."

"This is what I would've picked. Thanks."

Dean skips the coke and drinks the whiskey straight, making Castiel wince.

"Not a fan?"

"Not particularly, no, but to each his own. I'll take the coke if you don't want it."

The new friends sit in comfortable silence as Castiel reads and Dean numbs his frayed nerves.

"What're you reading?" Dean asks around a wide yawn.

" _The Shining."_

"Ah, yes, a classic."

"It permanently lives in my travel bag so I always have a good read at my fingertips."

"I haven't read that in awhile," he comments as he scoots down in his seat and lays his head back.

Castiel raises an eyebrow at Dean, remembering a comment Dean made earlier regarding the sound of his voice, he tells him, "I'm not opposed to reading out loud."

Dean's head pops up and he grins, "Yeah? I mean, if you wouldn't mind, I wouldn't mind listening. But if you don't, that's ok too. I just like sitting here with you."

Castiel places a hand on the side of Dean's face, gently pushing him back down. "Would you like a blanket?"

"Nah, 'm good."

Castiel gazes at Dean briefly before turning back to his book and begins to read aloud. Two pages in, Dean shuffles up against Castiel's shoulder. He lifts his arm, allowing his head to rest against his chest. Four pages in and Dean is snoring softly.

Castiel kisses the top of Dean's head and continues reading silently.

Dean sits up, pushing off the red leather jacket covering his shoulder. "Sorry, Castiel, I didn't mean to pass out on you, literally."

"Don't apologize, I enjoyed it. You seemed to be in need of rest, and look." He gestures at the window. "Trust me," he laughs when Dean looks at him wearily.

Dean looks, then looks again and sees a building. "I slept through landing?!?"

Castiel laughs, "You did indeed. We're just waiting for the gate to open up."

"Well fuck me, you need to fly with me wherever I go, from now on!"

"Well I _did_ tell you earlier I wanted to know your name first so I guess..."

Dean's face flushes again when he realizes what he just said.

"But seriously, I would be happy to...fly with you, anytime," Castiel smirks.

The each put on their shoes and stand as the flight attendant opens the plane door.

Once in the hanger, Dean pulls Castiel to an empty gate. "I know I kind of sound like a chick but I gotta say this anyway. Thank you for today." He takes a hold of each of Castiel's hands. "I don't want this to be the last time I see you."

"It won't be, remember my pimp mobile needs work and I don't trust her to just anyone."

"Maybe next time I'll skip the flying and drive. How do you feel about road trips, Castiel? Maybe next time I'll drive you...in my car."

Castiel shakes his head slightly, "You keep making promises. Now kiss me Dean."

For the first time today, Dean is completely fearless as he leans in for another amazing kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?  
> Come say hi on Twitter @lydrewsmom or on Tumblr @loudenswainfangirl
> 
> Thanks for reading.  
> LTTU


End file.
